


I Don’t Know What Love Is (Until You Say Goodbye)

by nothingwithoutyouxo



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25218043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingwithoutyouxo/pseuds/nothingwithoutyouxo
Summary: Justin knew that it would get easier before it got harder. Everyone told him so. It reminded him why he’d started using in the first place, and his mind had started to latch onto Clay in a way that would worry him if he had more sense than he did.(Otherwise known as the five times Justin wanted to tell Clay he loved him and the one time he did.)
Relationships: Justin Foley/Clay Jensen
Comments: 21
Kudos: 136





	I Don’t Know What Love Is (Until You Say Goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me, but alas these two won't let go. I wrote this after I finished Season 3 and before I watched Season 4 so it's set across seasons 2-3. Canon is slightly off-center for this (i.e. Justin doesn't relapse 'cause I'm not a coward), but I will always take canon with a grain of salt. Regardless, I hope you guys like this little one shot!! 
> 
> The title is from Too Many People by Palaye Royale which I decided about two years ago is a song that belongs to these two boys in particular.
> 
> (Trigger warnings for mentions of Justin's drug addiction, the gun at Spring Fling and the aftermath, and a general mental health warning. Please take care of yourselves!)

_One - Withdrawal_

Justin knew that it would get easier before it got harder. Everyone told him so. His emotions had been numbed by the heroine and he’d go from feeling nothing to everything the more the drugs left his system. Every day it reminded him why he’d started in the first place, it was exhausting having to feel so much all the time, but even so his brain was starting to adapt. The cravings he was used to, begging the others for _something_ to get the edge off were shifting towards something else. Someone that gave him comfort no matter how horrible he truly felt. 

His mind had started to latch onto Clay in a way that would worry him if he had more sense than he did, if he could focus for more than 20 minutes at a time. He _should_ be worried about it, he would tell himself in those moments. He definitely shouldn’t feel like this, and Clay could never find out about it. Even so, it was only getting harder to watch Clay leave for school in the mornings. He didn’t feel like a person when Clay wasn’t around. 

It didn’t even help that Sheri was there that day, though Justin sometimes preferred her gentle nature to whatever Tony usually pulled on him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Tony, he’d take any company over no company, but Justin hated being vulnerable around him. He always felt so damn vulnerable when Clay wasn’t around. Sometimes he felt like Tony noticed. He must have, Justin was sure that he talked about Clay when he was at his worst, so both Tony and Sheri would have heard him say _things_ by now. Neither of them brought it up or outwardly judged him for it. He didn’t know if he should thank them for that. 

Clay was keeping up a pleasant enough stream of conversation with Sheri considering the circumstances. He was good at that, pushing through and trying to make other people comfortable. Sheri was smiling as she settled in for the day, placing a neat pile of books on Clay’s desk, a mix of homework and a few novels. She once explained to him that she read multiple books simultaneously. Justin couldn’t even read one book at a time let alone three. She pulled a pack of cards from her jacket pocket and placed them on top. 

He was shaken back to reality by Clay picking his backpack up off the floor. Justin couldn’t register their conversation, but knowing Clay he was probably thanking Sheri again for taking over. He thanked her every single time and all it did was aid in Justin’s anxiety around being a true burden for them all, but whenever he brought it up Sheri politely reassured him that wasn’t the case. Even Tony denied it. 

Clay was laughing at something Sheri said, as he threw his backpack over his shoulder, and Justin’s panic started to settle in again, wrapping itself around his already ragged lungs and squeezing. Nausea was starting to claw its way back up his throat, but for all the wrong reasons.

Before he could truly register what he was doing, Justin had dragged himself up from his spot on the floor next to the couch, crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Clay. The action must have made Clay uncomfortable, Justin could tell by the way he stiffened in place, unsure what to do next, shocked at the gesture. Justin buried his head against Clay’s shoulder, breathing him in and wanting to just meld into Clay until he was what Clay needed him to be - entirely sober, steady in a way that he wasn’t right now. Or that he might never be again. At least, not like he used to be.

Justin thought about all his wasted time over the last year, intimidating Clay and trying to scare him. He thought about standing with Clay on the stairwell at school, inches away from each other. A pair of arms hesitantly wrapped themselves around his waist, and Justin found himself wondering how many people Clay hugged because he seemed as unsure as Justin felt. 

They never hugged, never so much as showed each other any level of physical affection that was more than Clay occasionally rubbing a hand over Justin’s back while he puked his guts out. Even that was too much some days, Justin’s exhausted brain clinging to the action for hours afterwards. Thinking and rethinking about the warmth of Clay’s hand, the steady calmness that he seemed to bring with him everywhere, even if Clay didn’t feel calm himself. If the persistence of the thoughts meant anything, Justin tried to ignore that, and all the implications that could be associated along with it. It didn’t have to mean anything. It probably shouldn’t ever mean anything.

“Don’t go,” he muttered into Clay’s shoulder, his voice rough due to the early hour and his constant lack of sleep. Clay tapped a few fingers against his waist, and Justin could practically hear him figuring out what to say in response. He just wished that Clay would hold him tighter, because most days it felt like he was the only thing holding Justin together. 

“Hey,” Clay muttered, his tone soft enough that it sent a shock wave down Justin’s spine. No one talked to him like this, not even Jess used to. Clay took a breath and then a hand was reaching up and resting between his shoulder blades, thumb sliding carefully over the back of Justin’s neck. He held onto Clay tighter. “I’ll be back as soon as school’s finished,” he continued, and there was an uncertainty in his voice that Justin was already worrying over. “I know you can hang on until then.”

It didn’t always feel like it. Definitely not today. He didn’t move even though guilt was starting to twist inside him. Clay could be late and it would be his _fault_. 

“Justin,” Clay said, a little louder and Justin couldn’t help but feel like the tone was that of an adult trying to coax a child to do what they’re told. 

He shook his head because he couldn’t remember how to let go, just that he didn’t want to. 

“Sheri’s here.” Justin could practically feel her nodding from where she was standing, eyes locked with Clay over Justin’s shoulder. He wondered what they were saying to each other, they were always talking without words. 

“She’s not you.” It was weak, closer to a whine than anything else. It was _pathetic_ and as soon as the words had left his mouth, Justin cringed at them. 

For a moment, Clay didn’t say anything. Justin wished he could read his mind and know what he was thinking. He wished he could take the words back.

“Guess not.” 

Justin slowly untangled himself, feeling hollow in a way that only happened when Clay wasn’t around. He could feel his heart struggling in his chest, an entirely irregular pattern. Was it ever regular? 

Clay’s brow was furrowed, and he was looking at Justin with the steady gaze of someone desperately trying to keep up a mask, trying to hide whatever they were really feeling. Justin knew he didn’t deserve to know what was happening in Clay’s head, let alone his heart, but he wished he was better at reading him. Sheri always explained to him that Clay was just worried, which was something Justin had never been able to fully grasp onto. He’d never had someone _worried_ enough about him to do anything that Clay had done. He didn’t have to come and get him, or drag him off the streets. Clay didn’t have to keep Justin in his room, or ensure that there was always someone available to watch him.

Whenever Justin started thinking in circles, trying to figure out why Clay would do all this when Justin had never been so much as nice to him, he reminded himself of the trial. Hannah’s trial. That’s why they were getting Justin sober, so he could testify. Part of him desperately wanted, or even needed, to believe that Clay wasn’t selfish enough for that to be the only reason, but he’d learned a long time ago not to rely on wishful thinking. 

Justin had to look away first, muttering some kind of goodbye to Clay that he didn’t even hear himself. He was already drawing away, back towards his spot in front of the couch. Clay threw a wave in Sheri’s direction and she chirped out a cheerful response. Something along the lines of ‘Have a good day!’. There was something else, something that almost sounded like ‘It’s ok, I’ve got him,’ and Justin had to swallow back another wave of _guilt_ . Maybe Clay _was_ worried, and maybe Justin had just given him another reason to be. He must seem unstable at this stage. 

The door closed behind Clay and Justin fell back to the floor. He felt Sheri coming to sit next to him, cross-legged, her knee lightly pressed against his leg. She always got down to his level, no matter what that was for the day. She always met him halfway. Justin couldn’t shake the entirely unreasonable need to cry, but he didn’t want to do that in front of her. 

Sheri rested a hand against his shoulder, squeezing lightly and trying to ground him in a way only Clay could. His breath shuddered in his chest. 

“I know, sweetheart,” she said, in her softest voice. Justin always imagined her using it to talk to small animals, or flowers that she picked up in meadows. That was how Sheri felt to him. Right now, it seemed to elicit a sniffle from him, and _god_ he _really_ didn’t want to cry right now. “Clay has a way of making people feel like this,” she continued. “Trust me.”

Justin didn’t like what she was insinuating, if it was what he thought she was. Clay was the first person to give a shit about him like this. That was where this all stemmed from, and it wasn’t more than that. 

  
  


***

_Two - Spring Fling_

There had never been anything as terrifying as the way Clay had positioned himself so easily in front of the gun that Tyler was holding. Justin knew that when Clay set his mind to something he would go through with it, but the concept of him doing _any_ of this alone chilled Justin to the core. He would have told Clay that if he hadn’t so quickly insisted on the two of them heading back into the school. Justin didn’t care about being safe or about dying, he cared that Clay was standing in front of a gun that had even the slightest chance of being fired at him. 

Jessica had to practically drag him back into the school that night, and even so he couldn’t shake the image of the gun from his mind. Of Clay stepping in front of it because Tyler had pointed it towards _him_ , and Jess. He would do the same, he had to tell Clay that he would do the same. Justin wished the others would let him out of the gym, but he knew that Tyler’s mental state was so fragile at this point that even the slightest trigger could set him off. He’d proven that already. 

Instead, he’d taken to pacing around a very small corner of the gym where the others were sitting in a line against the wall. Justin couldn’t stay still, his mind was racing, all of his senses were on alert as if he were in survival mode. Except he wasn’t the one that was at risk. Everyone in the gym was safe. Clay had made sure of that. Justin knew that if anyone could talk Tyler down, it would be Clay. He couldn’t stop thinking about how quickly Clay had decided on this, his tunnel vision kicking in as all he saw was the need to protect not just Tyler but every single one of his friends. More than that, Justin couldn’t believe that there was a time where he _didn’t_ think Clay was the bravest person he’d ever met. He was. He always had been.

Eventually his pacing was matched by Cyrus, who had filled them in on Tyler and the gun and the fact that he’d known about it. He just hadn’t realised that Tyler was capable of _this_. The unmeasurable guilt was falling off him in waves, propelling him around their little corner. Justin had never spoken to Cyrus before, but he knew he was friends with Clay. The two of them had been dancing together earlier, it felt like years ago now. Maybe Tyler wasn’t the only person he was worried about.

Justin had stopped pacing, needing to catch his breath. His stamina still hadn’t returned in its entirety, and his raging anxiety at the current circumstances wasn’t helping. Cyrus came to a stop next to him, breathing just as shaky.

“He won’t do it,” he said, voice firm. “He’s just scared.”

Justin looked up at him, unsure what to say. Cyrus certainly seemed to believe it, it was there in his eyes and his fists that were clenched at his sides. 

“I know you’re worried about Clay,” he said, and there was _something_ in his voice, a _knowing_ that Justin always strayed away from.

He nodded anyway. “I wish I was with him,” he admitted, dropping his voice to a whisper. It was hard to say out loud, and the implications of the statement rattled inside him like an assortment of broken glass. The words felt safe with Cyrus, who returned his nod. 

“I should have stopped this sooner,” he muttered. “I didn’t realise - “ he broke off, squeezed his eyes shut.

Justin rested a hand against Cyrus’ shoulder in a way that he’d seen Clay do a million times before. “He’ll be ok,” he said.

Cyrus took a breath and Justin dropped his hand again. His eyes cracked open, locking with Justin’s, “So will yours.”

***

They’d taken Clay back to the station first. Justin had barely seen him as they shoved him into the back of one of the cop cars. He wondered briefly how long it would take Mrs. Jensen to get to the station. He hoped that they’d already called her, so Clay wouldn’t be alone for too long. He was sitting on the pavement next to Jessica, her hand was clasped around his forearm. Justin felt sick in a way he hadn’t since he’d gotten clean. 

The waiting was the worst part. Each of them were forced to make a statement, and Justin had tried to keep his voice steady as he relayed what they’d planned out for him. All their stories had to match up so the cops wouldn’t have reason to suspect Tyler. As soon as they’d heard the sirens from the gym - and _god_ why weren’t the cops incompetent again just this once - they’d planned everything out. 

Everyone had their own puzzle piece that would add up to a giant arrow that pointed as far away from them as they could manage. Justin hoped more than anything that the arrow didn’t end up pointing in Clay’s direction. They’d had no way to reach him and fill him in, so they were relying on him staying quiet. 

Justin had no idea what was going to happen now. The cops were keeping them there until their parents came to pick them up, which put him in a weird position. He didn’t have any family to pick him up. No one was coming for him.

At least, that had been what he’d thought. He hadn’t expected to see Clay’s dad crossing towards him, lit by the red and blue against the night. Mr. Jensen didn’t say anything to him, just put an arm around Justin and led him back in the direction of his car. Justin couldn’t help but think that this must be where Clay got his inherent steadiness from, the arm around him provided a wave of calm that almost drowned out his intense panic. 

Once they were in the car, Justin exhaled for what felt like the first time since Clay had left the gym. He swallowed, unsure what to say in the awful silence, but Matt didn’t press him to say anything at all. Justin wasn’t sure why he thought he would. 

“Is Clay -” he wasn’t sure what he was asking, his hand balled into a fist in his lap. 

“Still at the station,” Matt supplied. “Lainey’s with him.”

Justin nodded. Knowing that Clay had his mum with him, who was literally a lawyer, helped with the strain in his chest. “Thanks for coming to get me,” he said, because he felt like he had to. Matt had no real obligation to him, they could have left him outside the school for the whole night and thought nothing of it.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he said, and then turned on the radio to fill the silence for the drive. Justin realised that meant Matt wasn’t going to force any information out of him. He exhaled again. “Besides, Clay will want you home when he gets back.”

He jolted, though he wasn’t sure why. Matt was smiling, as he pulled out of the parking spot and onto the street. Did he know? Justin clasped his hands together in his lap and wondered if it _mattered_ . If Matt was angry about that, he wouldn’t have come to pick him up. Maybe he didn’t know, and he was just joking. It _was_ something he did, Justin had seen it with Clay. The two of them had the blissful father-son banter that Justin thought only existed in family TV shows. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he was family now. Is that what this was? Not a mean jab at him, but a joking one? Without any malice behind it?

Exhaustion was starting to hit him with its full force as Justin all but dragged himself inside the Jensens’ house, only overpowered by his anxiety. He followed Matt, who had made his way into the kitchen and was pouring a glass of water from the tap. He held the glass out to Justin, who took it cautiously.

“How long will Clay be at the station?” he asked, and hoped he was allowed to. 

“Drink up,” Matt reminded, and Justin did. “Unless they have something to charge him with they’ll have to let him go.”

He nodded, twisting his hands around the now empty glass. “Can I wait up for him?”

“Of course. Just be careful you don’t burn yourself out.”

Justin wasn’t sure if he knew how to stop himself from doing that, but he nodded again, and handed the glass back to Matt when he reached out a hand for it. 

“Do you need to talk about what happened?”

He noted the way the question was phrased, not a demand, just a suggestion. For some reason, Justin was starting to wish that he could. He shook his head. 

Matt patted his shoulder gently. “You should head upstairs then.”

Justin dragged his feet all the way to Clay’s bedroom - even if they were sharing this was still irrevocably Clay’s bedroom - and dropped down onto the spare bed. He rubbed his palms over his eyes, and tried to force away the image of the gun but he still couldn’t manage it. None of them had told the cops about that. He doubted that Clay would mention it. God, he hoped Clay was ok, and that he would be back soon.

***

Justin had taken to pacing back and forth across the floor. His anxiety was still drumming inside him, not letting down even with how tired he felt. He didn’t dare look at a clock, too worried about what the passage of time could mean for Clay. As such, he existed in a void with only his footsteps against the carpet and his irregular heartbeat in his chest. 

When he heard the front door open, Justin hurtled to a stop in the middle of the room. He could hear Lainey’s faint voice, probably talking to her husband. There were footsteps on the stairs and then Clay was in his doorway. 

“Justin?” he muttered.

Justin couldn’t see him in the dark, but his voice was low and rough like gravel, as if he were barely awake. “I waited for you,” he said. 

There was a pause, a breath, and then Clay was closing the door behind him and crossing the room. He pulled Justin into a hug, arms sliding around his waist, head resting against his shoulder. Justin clung back just as tightly. Clay was freezing even if it wasn’t cold in the room. 

“I don’t have anyone else,” Justin found himself saying. It sounded selfish, but what he’d meant to say is _I almost lost you. No one else is you_. He felt Clay inhale against his shoulder as if he’d heard it, as if he were breathing Justin in. The words ‘I need you’ felt heavy on his tongue, but Justin couldn’t get them out. 

“Tony has Tyler,” Clay explained. “He’s gonna be ok.”

He didn’t have the head space to care about Tyler right now, when he could still see the gun so clearly, but part of him was glad that at least they’d spared him. “You saved everyone,” he muttered.

Clay shook his head. “Tony did.”

“No, you did.”

He paused, and then pulled away just enough that Clay could look up at Justin’s face, even if he couldn’t quite see it in the dark. His hands trailed from Justin’s waist to his arms and he held on. “Are _you_ ok?” he asked, and there was so much weight to the question that it bolted them to the floor. 

Justin didn’t have an answer, not really. “I’m better now that you’re here,” he said. It was the worst kind of vulnerable, the kind where he wasn’t sure how Clay would react. Would he pick up on the extra meaning of that? Of the impossible _feelings_ behind it?

Clay took a deep breath, and Justin thought he heard it somehow, the small indication that he’d understood. “Justin, I’m so tired,” he said.

“Me too,” he admitted, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to sleep that night.

Clay squeezed his arms gently. “Stay with me,” he muttered, and there was a nervous shake in his voice. 

At this point, Justin didn’t know how much affection was too much. They’d already hugged, but he let Clay tug him over to his bed, watched as he kicked off his shoes and then collapsed onto the mattress before pulling Justin down with him. They’d never shared a bed before, and he had no idea what Clay would say about this in the morning, but surely he could just attribute it to the traumatic event they’d both just been through. Clay more so than him. He just needed someone to be there. Maybe they both did. 

Clay was shaking just enough that it was noticeable, the shock probably hadn’t had the appropriate time to wear off. He would have needed to keep it together at the station. Justin pulled Clay closer to him, until he was buried against his chest, and then froze. 

“This ok?”

He nodded and shifted a little closer, resting his forehead against Justin’s chest.

Justin wrapped an arm around him and settled in. Then he heard Clay sniffle, and _fuck_ he’d never seen Clay cry before. He couldn’t imagine how much it took for him to do so.

“Shit,” Clay muttered, as if he’d realised it too. 

“It’s ok. I’ve got you.”

***

_Three - Nightmares_

Justin was incredibly familiar with nightmares, and how real they could feel. When the world was twisted into a version of itself that was so familiar and yet so unbearably off all at once, complete with the crushing sense of wanting it all to be over and not knowing when it would be. His nightmares were often fuelled by something; his anxiety or the drugged up haze that encompassed him when he’d lived on the streets, the cold night air and never being able to feel _safe_. The absolute lack of control he had in those moments, and the grogginess after waking up were horrible in every sense of the word. Justin would live every second of his life in his worst nightmare if it meant that Clay wouldn’t have to wake up screaming again. 

Clay was always so apologetic when it happened, a raw voice in a deathly silent room muttering that he was sorry _fuck Justin, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you again? I didn’t mean to I -_ He would pull at the sheets around him, or the shirt he was wearing, or his own hair, anything that could stabilize him long enough that he remembered he was in the real world again. Until then he wasn’t quite awake but instead halfway between the nightmare and his bedroom. In some cases this meant he was nonsensical, sentences streaming from him that revealed the content of his nightmares in almost enough detail for Justin to make sense of them on his own. Clay always seemed more worried about being a disturbance, an inconvenience within the dark night as if his own health was the last thought on his mind. Maybe it was. 

It’d taken Justin weeks to convince Clay to share what was going on inside his head. He had pieces, half fragments that never fully melded together. Justin didn’t care how twisted the thoughts were, he knew how dark nightmares could be, and watching Clay go through his alone was killing him slowly. When he finally found the words, Clay talked about the gun. About Spring Fling and Tyler and a bullet that went straight through him, knocking him to the ground until all the blood in his body had seeped into the pavement. Justin couldn’t help but think that he’d had an eerily similar nightmare. 

One night it was worse. Justin hadn’t been asleep, though he’d had no idea why. Some nights his mind just wouldn’t stay quiet enough for sleep to take him. Clay seems restless, constantly rolling over in his sleep, which wasn’t the best sign. Maybe that had kept him awake just as much. There wasn’t a scream, just Clay’s body jolting upright in bed, his breathing already halfway to a panic attack.

Justin practically jumped to the other side of the room. Clay had buried his head in his hands, incoherent mumbling drowned out by the gesture, and he was slick with sweat. After saying his name half a dozen times to no response, Justin considered heading back to the house and waking up Clay’s mum, or even his dad, but decided against it. That would only make Clay feel worse when he properly came to his senses. 

After a moment, Justin realised the mumbling wasn’t even incoherent anymore, just the word ‘No’ echoed over and over again between sharp breaths that were far too shallow for his liking. This wasn’t unusual, he was used to hearing mutters of “Put the gun down” or “Don’t shoot” but there was something different about this. 

“Clay,” he tried again, a hand steady on his shoulder. “You’re not there anymore. I promise. It’s all over.”

It took awhile for Clay to calm down, too long, and then his hand slowly laced itself around Justin’s wrist, and Clay pulled one of Justin’s hands into his lap, his thumb resting over Justin’s pulse. He took a breath, and then seemed to deflate with relief. 

“You’re here,” Clay muttered, and this time it was aimed at Justin.

“I’m here,” he agreed. “You are too.”

Next came the apology, short and with the shake of Clay’s head.

“Don’t,” Justin reminded. “You never have to apologise about this.”

Clay’s breathing was slowing down again, and he looked up to meet Justin’s eyes as much as he could. Even in the dark they’d become experts at finding each other. The nightmare was weighing him down, and Justin could tell that he was struggling with it. It had never been this bad before, he was almost scared to ask.

“Do you need to talk about it?”

His grip on Justin’s wrist tightened just a little, thumb skirting over his pulse again. “It was worse,” he said, even if he didn’t need to. “Justin it was so much -” 

Justin shook his head to cut him off. “Then don’t say anything.” He could hear the fear in Clay’s voice and somehow that was enough.

“The bullet didn’t hit me this time,” Clay whispered, as if speaking any louder would give the nightmare life again. “Justin, it - it hit you.”

Something in his chest tightened, and Justin couldn’t make sense of why that would make Clay feel worse than his own death, but of course he knew why. Clay put every single person before himself, he had more empathy for the people around him than Justin had ever seen. 

“Me?”

“I tried to move, but I couldn’t and I wasn’t - I wasn’t fast enough this time.” Clay’s thumb over his pulse felt heavy as Justin realised that he’d been checking if Justin was still alive. 

“I’m here,” he said again. “You saved me.”

“It never feels like I’ve saved anyone. Everything I do - something else always just _happens_.”

Justin wanted to hold him, more than anything. He just wanted to hold onto Clay until everything felt normal again, even though he knew normal wasn’t real anymore. Normal had stopped existing when Hannah died, and it was gone for all of them in every single way it could be. 

“Can I -” he didn’t know how to ask without it being weird. The stakes had never felt this high before. Clay had basically admitted to Justin’s death being his worst nightmare yet. He didn’t know what to do with that. Clay’s finger brushed his wrist again and Justin felt like he was going to burst. 

Clay paused, and nodded. “Yeah, I - yeah.”

He lay down on the bed and gently pulled Clay down next to him. 

“I’m all gross,” he muttered, because the sweat had started to turn sticky. Justin couldn’t give less of a shit. 

“You’re not.”

Clay burrowed against him, like he had what felt like a million times before. Justin wrapped an arm around him gently, and when Clay’s lips accidentally brushed against his neck while he was settling in, Justin tried to ignore the bolt of electricity that flowed through him. 

“Better?” he asked. 

He had a tight grip on the front of Justin’s shirt, balling it up in his fist. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

Justin was too scared to breathe. “Clay, I -”

He couldn’t say it, even if he was thinking it. It wasn’t fair to tell him now. _I love you_.

“I wish I could keep you safe.” It was about as much as he could allow himself, and it was entirely the truth. 

Clay shifted, face tilting towards him. He let go of Justin’s shirt, fingers splaying out across his chest instead, still over his heart. “I do feel safe with you,” he said. “I feel more safe with you than anyone.”

His mind still wouldn’t stop spinning in too many directions. Clay was so close to him and they’d never talked like this before, not really. Suddenly he was worried what his heartbeat must have felt like, if it was steady or skipping beats as much as he thought it was. “Except Tony?” he asked, and it was almost a joke, almost normal.

Clay shrugged. “Sometimes more than Tony,” he explained, and started tapping his fingers against Justin’s chest. Justin took too long to realise Clay was tapping his own heartbeat back to him. “I mean, I don’t do _this_ with Tony.” 

There was something in his tone, something that Justin desperately wanted to latch onto. He couldn’t speak. 

“At least, not anymore.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not anymore.”

Clay exhaled in a soft laugh. “We used to have a lot of sleepovers as kids,” he explained.

Justin could practically picture them, lying side by side and staring up at the ceiling. Staying up talking far too late. “That’s kind of sweet actually.”

Clay hummed in agreement. “This with you … might be better.”

The hand against his chest paused for a second, which must have meant that Justin’s heart had skipped a beat. He wondered if Clay was paying enough attention to notice. Justin took a shaky breath, this all felt like so much at once. God, at least Clay seemed to be ok again. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Justin placed a hand over Clay’s, pressing it flat against his chest and stopping the tapping. “Things are always better with you, Clay.”

***

_Four - Homecoming_

Justin was starting to realise that he might not actually like football. Maybe it was just being on the team again, being a part of something that wasn’t just him. He’d only really joined for Zach anyway. If he hadn’t asked then Justin wouldn’t be experiencing the nervous-excited energy that he’d forgotten existed a few days before a game. At the moment, it was far more nervous. 

Clay was sitting on his bed, going over some essay that he almost hadn’t written. Justin tried to focus his nervous energy into being _useful_. 

“Are you coming to the game on Friday?” he asked, and ignored the shake in his voice. They hadn’t talked about it yet, but Justin didn’t want to just _assume_ that Clay would be there. He probably had a million other things to do, and Clay didn’t even like sports.

Clay tapped his pen against his page. “I don’t know. I might go with Tony and Caleb.”

“Clay I …” The words bundled up inside him again, stopping in his throat and not making it. He wasn’t going to say _that_. He had to think of something else, something that was just enough and didn’t give him away. Maybe the truth would work. “I would really like it if you were there.”

Their eyes met, and Clay offered him a half-smile underneath all his stress. “Then I’m there.”

***

“Are you ok?” 

Was he ever? Justin rubbed absently at the back of his neck, dropping his bag on the floor next to his bed. The pep rally had gone well enough, Justin had barely focused on it. He was starting to crave a hit again, the way he always did when he was under pressure or feeling too much. Or both, but Clay had worked too hard for Justin to relapse now over a stupid football game. He felt too jittery, and Justin didn’t even realise that he hadn’t answered Clay’s question until he heard his name. _Shit_. 

Clay’s brow was furrowed, and Justin wished he could reassure him that he was the last thing Clay should be worried about. “You’re nervous,” he said, the words laced with a hidden meaning.

Sometimes he forgot that Clay could still tell when he needed _something_ . Justin dropped down on his bed, facing Clay and shrugged. He still wasn’t used to talking like this, even with Clay it could feel like walking on eggshells, desperately trying not to say anything that would make Clay concerned about him. Sometimes it felt like silence hurt more than words did. “A little,” he admitted, with an undercurrent of _I won’t do anything. I promise_. 

“Is it because of Hillcrest?” Clay asked, shifting on his bed so that he was facing Justin, moving closer to the edge as if that could help. “Because you’re playing against Bryce?”

Unfortunately for Justin it seemed that somehow everything would always force it’s way back to Bryce. He wished more than anything that he could get away and yet he never could, always twisted around Bryce’s finger like he had been for years. He wanted to be sick. Justin nodded.

He watched as Clay tried to figure out what to say to that. Clay always told him that he wasn’t good at comforting people, but Justin didn’t quite agree. “What’s going to keep you calm?” he asked, and it was sort of perfect.

_You_ , he thought, even if Justin knew he couldn’t say it. Even asking Clay to come to the game had felt like too much, he couldn’t be honest about this yet. Not now. “I don’t know. Maybe I just need to get on the field and see what happens.”

Clay nodded, rubbed his hands against his thighs just for something to do with them. “Zach says training’s been going well. That you’re healthy.”

Justin laughed, not quite able to stop himself. “You’ve been checking up on me?” he teased.

He rolled his eyes, as if to shrug the comment off, but Justin could see it in the stiff line of his shoulders. Fuck, Clay was always so worried about him. “Maybe.”

“I’m ok,” he said, and tried his best to smile, because he was. He was always ok when Clay was here. “Really. Maybe I’ll even win you a game today.”

Clay’s eyes met his. “Me?” he asked, confused.

_Shit._ _Reel it in, reel it in._ “Uh, yeah, man.”

***

Justin was sitting next to Charlie and watching Zach give a speech that was half inspirational and half concerning. At least it held the attention of the entire team and their coach, though Justin couldn’t quite make out from his expression where he stood on it. Currently, Justin was fighting off the urge to tap his foot consistently against the hard concrete floor of the locker room. Even with Zach’s voice getting steadily louder, he couldn’t fight the nerves off in their entirety. 

He’d forgotten what the response of a crowd felt like as the team ran out onto the field. Being the Homecoming game there were far more people than usual, and Justin’s mind was racing as he jogged into position, full with far too much to think about. There was Bryce, who he could spot immediately against his better judgement, there was the overwhelming imposter syndrome he felt whenever he was doing anything connected to his life pre-addiction. Not to mention that Jess has been pretty cryptic about _something_ happening at half time, if he even managed to make it that far. Justin threw a glance to the crowd, eyes scanning for the one person that was going to get him through his.

It felt like too long until he finally found Clay, sitting next to Tony and Caleb and deep in conversation. As if he could feel eyes on him, Clay looked up and met his eyes. He smiled and Justin felt that wave of calm wash over him. They were going to win.

***

_Five - Defence_

The cops were spending far too much time looking at Clay as a potential suspect. Justin was starting to think that they were trying to pin it on him on purpose because Clay was an easy enough target. Why else would they bring up security footage from months ago? Why would they single out Clay pointing the gun when Justin knew that he had as well? He almost wished they’d pin it on him instead. He didn’t have a stable alibi either, he could take the fall. Though Clay wouldn’t let him, he was sure of that. 

Watching Clay start to doubt his parents’ trust in him was the worst part of all of this. He was terrified and Justin wanted to tear the whole system down as a result, but it wouldn’t matter. It never mattered. Clay had a meeting with his lawyer tomorrow. The fact that he needed a lawyer seemed to prove how serious this was. As the two of them trailed back home, Justin wished he could think of anything to say that would make this better. 

“What’s juvie like?” Clay asked, trying to keep his voice steady but Justin could hear the edge to it. 

“You’re not going to juvie.” 

He paused, straightening as if something had just occurred to him. “No I’m - an adult.”

Justin watched as Clay went very still, the reality of the situation hitting him all at once. If the cops managed to pull this off - “You’re not going to jail either,” he said, because he would rather die than let that happen.

“You don’t know that.”

Every day that passed Justin felt like he _knew_ less and less. “They’ll find another suspect.”

Clay shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “If they were going to they would have by now.”

He was probably right about that, and it made Justin uneasy. They weren’t _looking_ for another suspect, otherwise they _would_ find one. “I’ll be your alibi. I’ll say you were with me.”

Clay sighed and sat down heavily on his bed. “It’ll come apart and Justin what if I - what if I did it?”

His chest ached, just the fact that Clay would even consider that hurt. He was entirely incapable of killing a person, even if that person was Bryce. Maybe Justin didn’t know everything but he knew that much. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

Their eyes met, and Justin could tell that Clay was starting to doubt whether that was true or not. “Justin I don’t remember anything after the game,” he admitted, and the words sat heavily in the silence around them.

Did any of them? Justin was pretty sure he’d blocked out the night entirely. It wasn’t something that he wanted to remember in detail ever again. “You were angry and you were driving,” he reminded, because he believed that much. Clay hated being angry, and with what happened at the game he would have needed space. “You weren’t thinking where you were going.”

“Exactly. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clay, you can’t kill someone without thinking about it.”

Clay shifted uncomfortably, drawing his hands closer to his body as if to take up less space. It was something that Tyler did when he was uncomfortable which made it easy to tell how much time they’d been spending together. “Justin, you saw me at the game. You pulled me off Bryce. I _wanted_ to kill him.”

Justin got up and crossed the room, sitting next to Clay on his bed. “Everyone wanted to kill Bryce,” he said, voice firm. “ _I_ wanted to kill, Bryce.”

“But you didn’t.”

“And neither did you.”

Clay still didn’t believe him, and that hurt more than Justin could explain. He reached for Justin’s hand absently, and Justin let him take it. Maybe it would ground him. “What if my mum’s right about me?” he asked, his voice smaller than Justin could remember it being. “What if I’m unstable?”

Justin squeezed his hand. “Your mum doesn’t think that.”

“She thinks I need a lawyer.”

“She _knows_ that you need a lawyer because she knows the cops won’t let up. She’s protecting you, Clay.”

He shook his head. “I think I saw it in her eyes tonight. She doesn’t know if she can trust me.”

The worst part was that Justin couldn’t deny that. There were too many holes in Clay’s story, too many ‘what ifs.’ “I trust you,” he said instead, even if that wouldn’t make up for it. 

Clay met his eyes, and maybe it did help, just a little. 

“You’re a good person, Clay. You’re not capable of killing anyone.”

“You really believe that?” he asked, and there was a level of hope to the question.

Justin swallowed, having to force back those words again. The ones he refused to even think about. He squeezed Clay’s hand again. “I believe in you more than anyone,” he said, and watched the words settle into Clay’s head. 

When they had, Clay nodded, and the constant weight on his shoulders seemed just a little lighter. “Thank you.”

***

_One - After_

Monty was dead. That was something that would take a while to sink in. Justin was hoping for a sense of relief after the fact. If not for him then at least for Clay, who’d been so on edge the entire time trying to protect them all. Trying not to get convicted himself, trying to support Tyler as he came out with his story, trying to hold everything together at the expense of his own state of mind. The words bubbled up inside Justin again, fuelled by the fact that things were over, at least for now. At least for long enough that they could hopefully all take a breath. Justin was sure that Clay hadn’t taken a breath in years. He needed this. 

The two of them made their way home, exhausted and about to collapse but Justin’s mind couldn’t stop racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about how many times he’d almost lost Clay in the last year. If everything was over, if _he_ could breathe again did that mean -

“Clay,” he muttered, and watched Clay’s attention snap to him immediately. God, he looked so tired. It was probably an awful time for this. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Even in a state of exhaustion, Clay was quick to nod. “Yeah, of course.”

Justin wasn’t sure what to do next. Clay made his way over his bed and sat down, so Justin quickly sat next to him. The words were rolling around in his head, but he hadn’t figured out how to go about this. “I haven’t relapsed,” he said, because the more seconds he allowed to pass the more worried Clay was starting to turn.

“I know,” he replied. “I’d be able to tell. No secrets, remember?”

Right, except that there was. Justin took a deep breath, and hoped that would help. “There is … one secret that I’ve been keeping from you.”

His brow furrowed, the worry settling into his expression. Clay didn’t say anything, allowing Justin the space to speak.

“It’s nothing bad. I mean it could be -” he broke off and shook his head. “Tony wouldn’t want me to say that.”

“This is about Tony?” Clay asked. 

“No, this is about me.” He reached cautiously for Clay’s hand, needing something to ground him. Clay let him take it. “It might not be the best time for this but I -” He paused, unable to get the words passed his throat again, even when he was allowing them too. Justin swallowed back the nerves that were starting to claw at him. “Clay, I love you.”

Clay’s face went entirely blank, devoid of any expression in the way it always did when he was confused about something. Justin became too aware of his own heartbeat in his chest as he waited, watching the words sink into Clay’s mind. Even when they seemed to settle, Clay just blinked. 

Maybe he’d just ruined everything. Justin couldn’t help the thought as it nipped at him. Typical of him to ruin the one truly good thing in his life by being honest. This was why he’d kept everything locked up inside him for so long. This was why he hadn’t said _anything_ to Clay while he’d gotten clean, or after they’d faced a gun, or the cops. Or when Justin was so worried over Clay’s nightmares that the words almost spilled over late at night in a fit of desperation. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

“Please say something.”

Clay shook his head, as if to clear it, his eyes finding Justin’s again. “How - long have you been keeping this secret?” he asked, and there was something in his tone, something a little like hope. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s hard for me to tell. I just -” he shrugged. “I can feel it.”

It seemed to be at this moment that Clay realised their hands were still clasped together. He pulled his hand away, rubbing it against his thigh instead. “Justin, I -” he stopped, looking down.

“I’m not expecting anything,” Justin rushed in response. “After everything that happened I just wanted to tell you.”

Clay nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Justin didn’t try to stop the stream of expletives as they started up in his mind. He couldn’t have picked a worse time for this. Clay looked so exhausted. _Of course_ he was exhausted. They’d just framed someone for murder and gotten away with it. 

Justin didn’t know what to do, his mind was a mess. He let his thoughts take him off into another world, voices taunting him because maybe he deserved it this time. God, he and Clay lived together, what would happen to that now? How fucked up did he just make everything? 

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed Clay moving closer to him, he didn’t realise what was happening until Clay reached out, titling Justin’s jaw up so he could see his eyes. Justin started to line up his apology in his head, not entirely registering just how close Clay was to him right now and then - 

_Oh_. Clay had leaned forward and kissed him, hand resting against his neck. Justin couldn’t think, or focus. He kissed Clay back, a hand skimming his hip before balling up Clay’s shirt up into his fist and just holding on. Clay seemed nervous, tentative, and Justin couldn’t help but think that it’d been a while for both of them. He was nervous too, Clay made Justin nervous in a way that no one else ever had. His heart was struggling in his chest, unsure whether it could just leap out at Clay or not. Justin shifted, bringing a hand up to cup Clay’s cheek and deepening the kiss. 

Every thought that Justin had was about Clay in some capacity. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice told him that this was _different_ to how he thought it would be. Justin wasn’t even aware that he’d thought about this before, but it made sense. Just as he was realising that he couldn’t remember how to breathe anymore, Clay pulled away. 

Justin didn’t want Clay more than a few inches away from him. He gently pressed his forehead against Clay’s, and tried to think of something to say. His hand creeped up to rest against Clay’s chest, feeling his very real and very unsteady heartbeat through his shirt. They were both so very alive and Justin was feeling far too much for him to make sense of any one thing. “Clay-” he muttered, but it was about as much as he could manage. He laughed in awe of the boy in front of him. 

Clay breathed in as Justin breathed out, and somehow that alone was its own form of intimacy. “Maybe, I love you too,” he said.

Justin kissed him again. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is honestly an ode to the fact that we could have had it all. You can find me over at [stranger-awakening](https://www.stranger-awakening.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you would like to chat!
> 
> Comments, kudos, etc., are appreciated!!


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